Soda Pop Stain
by Working-On-Sanity
Summary: Jessie had good intentions, she really did. Yet somehow, she only managed to humiliate James, and she couldn't understand why. She made him cry harder when she tried to be nice than when she beat him around. But maybe it was just because James couldn't keep himself in check. Jessie/James.


**Author's Note: **I thought I had disposed of my last RocketShipping fiction months ago, so I really have no words to explain this doozy. I had part of it written beforehand, and while on vacation, I finished it. But I won't even try keeping rhyme or reason to what and when I write. I keep changing my mind.

* * *

As much as James loved food of all forms and flavors, he would readily admit that he hated this meal. He detested every second of it. Every moment was torture. The food itself didn't contribute to the fiery emotion that swirled in his stomach, neither did the oppressing silence––more than anything else, it was Jessie.

She sat beside him, her legs crossed comfortably and her knee knocking against his every time she leaned closer to the table to shovel another spoonful of peach slices into her mouth. Clear syrup coated her mouth in a gloss, and after swallowing every bite, she would impatiently rub her wrist over her lips.

"What's wrong with you, James?" Snidely, Jessie turned to glare at him, her head tilted upwards in a display of superiority. Her wet lips stretched in a smug smirk, and she dropped her spoon with a click against the rim of her ceramic bowl. She scooted closer to him, nudging her elbow roughly against the dip between his ribs.

"I think I get what's up," she whispered, her grin slurring her words. A giggle erupted from her throat as a light gust of air, sending the fine hairs along James's temple swirling against his cheek. He winced, closing one eye against the odd sensation as he groped along the edge of the table for his glass of soda.

"W––what does that mean?" Defiantly he refused to meet her challenging gaze, tipping his cup against his lips to drain the last drops of tepid cola. He relished the taste in an exaggerated manner, pretending to ignore the way Jessie's thigh pushed heavily against his side.

"Well, don't think I don't notice how many times you've looked over there at Meowth." Jessie nearly choked on her laugh, tears misting her eyes and smudging her thick coat of mascara. "And judging by the way you've been hunched over with your face all red..." A snicker punctuated her sentence. "I always knew you had a little tickle in your fancy for Meowth. But I didn't know watching him eat made you feel that way!"

Indignantly, James raised his shoulders, tightening his back against Jessie's sarcastic remark. "Of course that's not it," he said hotly, dropping his hands to hold them protectively over his lap. "It's repulsive. It's sickening. It's like watching a muddy little boy take a bath."

Jessie's arched red eyebrows rose, nearly meeting her hairline. "Exactly. I was wondering what you were thinking. Apparently it was working pretty well for you." She directed one long manicured nail toward James's face, noting with glee the mottled shade of pink that slathered over his cheeks.

"Will you stop with all the wisecracks?" James snapped, his last frayed threads of patience unraveling. Jessie recoiled, startled by his venomous tone. The glints of enjoyment in her eyes faded into flat silver flecks, and immediately, James regretted having shouted at her. Raising his voice against Jessie without true reason was so uncharacteristic of him that even from the other end of the room, Meowth jerked up from his share of fruit slices to stare.

"I'm sorry." Quietly, James pressed his palms to his knees, peering guiltily down at his hands. "I shouldn't have yelled at––"

"You'd better be sorry," Jessie said belligerently. "That's a bad temper you've got. If you can't handle a little teasing..."

James didn't bother to mention that Jessie herself had a temper that could be compared to a flame. At the slightest provocation, the spark would erupt into a mile-high bonfire.

"Look." Jessie sighed dramatically, mistaking his silence for sulking. "I don't care how much you pout, it's not right to scream at a lady. It's proper etiquette."

"Etiquette, schmetiquette," James bitterly interjected. Without looking up, he reached over the table to dip his fingers into the small plate of lemon slices. Plucking one from the pile, he slowly withdrew and lifted it to his lips to chew lonesomely at the tart yellow peel. He exerted all his concentration in pretending that Jessie was not sitting beside him, but it was more difficult to dismiss her presence than he had expected.

Begrudgingly, Jessie returned to her meal, much too close to James. Her shoulder knocked against his, her elbow grazing his side whenever she breathed. James closed his eyes, focusing on the strong sourness that permeated his mouth as he bit into the soft flesh of the lemon. He was almost successful in forgetting about Jessie, until she moved to grab her cup of soda. Her forearm jostled her bowl, and her spoon clattered free to drop into James's lap.

He yapped in surprise, and his teeth accidentally clicked into his finger. Hissing in pain while regretting having held the piece of lemon in such an awkward position, he glowered down at the spoon, then shifted his accusing glare to rest on Jessie.

"The syrup's never going to come out of my pants," he said in a mutter, sucking on his nipped finger. Encouraged by this show of grouchy cattiness, Jessie gave an exclamation of amusement, touching her fingertips innocently to her chin.

"My, my, did _I _do that?" She pressed her tongue against the roof of her mouth, making a small sound of disapproval. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. I'm a bit clumsy, now, aren't I." And before James could yelp and jerk his legs up to his chest, Jessie pushed her hand against his thigh, holding him down to delicately lift the spoon from his lap.

"Jessie!" James felt the hard mass of tension in his stomach sink down directly into the midst of his hips. He gritted his teeth and slid his arms around his middle, feeling his throat close.

Upon realizing that his grimace was because of her, Jessie scowled, pinching the handle of the silver spoon and idly swinging it back and forth.

"Crying about a syrup stain, huh?" Casually, Jessie rested her elbows on the tabletop, rolling her eyes expressively. "How much more of a baby can you ge––"

"Stop it!" James slammed his hands down on the tabletop, the jolt distracting him from the warmth that flared in his hips. Frowning, he shoved himself to his feet, stumbling unsteadily before regaining his balance. Without a backwards glance, he childishly slid his hands into his pockets and stalked from the room. Though he left, his aura of gloominess remained.

"Gee," Jessie griped, swiping her arm forward to snatch her glass. She greedily swallowed the last of her soda, licking away the residue from her lips and smearing her lipstick in the process. Scrubbing the moisture from her mouth, she gave a gusty sigh, letting her hand fall to rest on her bare knee.

"Did you see that pathetic excuse for a tantrum?" She tipped her head to the side, watching as Meowth's ears swiveled to catch her voice.

"Didn't see it. Heard it." Meowth's face was hidden in the bottom of the bowl, his grumbling muffled as he lapped the sugary grease. "Whatever you did, don't do it anymore."

"I didn't do anything!" Jessie protested. "He's such a girl. He's probably going to wash his uniform. Big deal. So what? He would've had to clean it anyway."

"Still." Emerging from the bowl, Meowth began to run his tongue over his paw, straightening his messy whiskers. "Maybe you should go check on him. He acted madder than usual. Something could be wrong with him."

"I doubt it." Jessie snorted, but she uncrossed her legs and stood. She adjusted her skirt resolutely, her gait swinging and loose as she left.

"Hey, James! James, you open this door right this second." James had locked himself inside the bedroom, a thin strip of light glowing beneath the door. She heard a rustling sound and realized he was changing his clothes.

"Go away," James said, his voice tight with a pout.

"I'm warning you..." Jessie felt a growl raise in her throat, and she clenched her fist before lightly beating it against her thigh in self-admonishment. Taking a deep breath, she tried again.

"Oh, Jimmy-boo," she sang, sultry and inviting. She lifted her hand and tapped her nails against the door playfully. "Come on, Princess. Open the door for your darling Jessie. Jessie needs to talk to Jimmy. She needs to find out what's made little Jamie so mad."

Despite her good intentions, she found herself growing more sarcastic, her words becoming thick as honey and laced with the same babyish tone one used when speaking to a toddler. She knew she was being cruel, and before she could summon the nerve to apologize, the door jerked open, dislodging her hand from drumming below the knob. James's face was framed in the door, his cheeks dark and his eyes moist and red. It took Jessie a moment to notice he wore nothing but a long wrinkled shirt.

"Haven't you done enough?" James said, but the meaning was lost when a hiccup broke his voice. He snuffled, embarrassed, and rubbed the back of his hand over his wet eyes. Jessie abruptly shook her head, jostling her gaze from tracing the curves of his bare legs.

"Doesn't someone have a smart attitude," she said, attempting to hide her blunder. She bored her stare into his eyes until he surrendered to the urge to look away.

"Just... just leave me alone, Jess," James said with a tired sigh. He sniffed. "I'd rather be by myself. I'm not too keen on talking to you right now."

"Well, that's too bad." Jessie thrust her hand out, splaying her fingers over James's narrow chest. She pushed her face close to his, so close she could smell the sweetness of peaches on his breath. Or perhaps it was the scent of his hair. Jessie wondered why she was even thinking about it as she shoved James backward, furling her fingers as they lifted from his chest. James staggered, losing his balance, until he hit the wall, and arched his back from the impact with a yelp. His head snapped forward, his hair falling over his forehead. While he struggled to breathe, digging his fingers into his ribs weakly, Jessie stepped inside the bedroom, tugging the door shut behind her.

"You are _going _to tell me what your problem is," she said, her teeth gritted. "If I have to beat it out of you, James, you're going to spill whatever little vendetta you have against me."

Wordlessly, James remained slouched against the wall, his head bowed, his hand clutching his side.

"Well?"

"Please, Jessie. Just leave me alone," he said. He whined when Jessie lunged closer, gripping his wrist to jerk him upright. With fury blazing in her eyes, Jessie glowered, holding his slim wrist tightly high above his head to keep him from slumping down again.

"You've been becoming more of a nuisance every day," she said stonily, ignoring him as he flinched. "What's wrong with you, James? Somebody can just look at you in the wrong way now and you throw a tantrum. You've been edgy and snippy for I don't know _how _long, and I am sick of it. You hear me? _Sick_ of it."

James had no choice but to stare into Jessie's fiery eyes. He glanced at the closed door, then back to Jessie. He swallowed hard, acutely aware of how Jessie's fingers flexed around his wrist and how her nails dug deep into his skin.

"I'm sorry, Jess," he said at last.

"I don't _care _if you're sorry. We all know you're sorry. Boy, don't we all know how sorry you are!"

"I––"

"James, I'm going to tell you what I think is going on. Is that okay?" The sugary sarcastic edge returned to her voice. "I think that you're dating. Oozing around Johto when I'm busy working myself to death. I think you've found yourself a biker and you're head-over-heels for him. But you two are having trouble because _you_"––she pointed––"are living with a gorgeous redhead and a cat, and _he _has a whole bike gang of hunks and curvy chicks at his disposal."

James's jaw went slack.

"Am I right?"

"Jess," he said in a quiet, stunned voice, "this isn't like when we were kids. I'm not Trainer Jim anymore, and Chopper's long gone."

"Well, who is it, James? You're always the romantic. Always got lover's troubles. Always _day_dreaming about your next catch." She spat out the word. "Nothing else worries you. So who are you dating now? The mailman?"

James gazed at the floor, his eyes soft. A humorless smile thinned his lips. "I'm not dating anyone, Jessie, but you won't listen to a thing I say. So go ahead and make your silly assumptions. They don't change a thing. They haven't so far."

His voice was soft, and Jessie stared. The steel in her eyes froze over, blue as crystal and every bit as hard.

"Fine," she said, squeezing the word past her tight lips. "Good. I'm glad to know what I say has such an effect on you, James."

She said his name as though it tasted like mud. In utter disgust, she released her grip on his wrist and shoved him. He stumbled, but splayed his hands over the wall to retain his balance. Through blurry eyes, he watched Jessie stalk away, her red hair streaming like a furious flame behind her.

James rubbed the heel of his hand over his forehead. His face burned painfully, and he knew his skin glowed scarlet.

He snuffled and swiped his wrist over his nose, promising to regain his dignity. With a toss of his head, he went to the mirror and began to arrange his ruffled bangs.

_Isn't that just right, Jessie? _He snatched a comb and yanked it through his hair, wincing when the teeth snagged on a tangle. He poured his hurt and anger into his task, combing with more vigor than ever, combing until his hair shone crisper than silk.

_You think what you say doesn't have an effect on me? It's a good thing you aren't very bright. It's a good thing you don't care about others enough to notice. It's a good thing that you really don't see how you affect me._

With an angry cry, James slammed his hands onto the dresser. The mirror rattled. He tilted his chin, glaring into the dim eyes of his reflection. Wet melted into his lashes, making them glitter. James slowly sank back into his seat, numbed by his thoughts.

_It's... it's a good thing, _he thought again.

He folded his arms over the dresser and pressed his nose into them. It would take a long time to convince himself that he was right.

* * *

**Note: **Why do I always pile so much _angst _on these kids? I have a bajillion different ways to interpret them. Is James more than 50% gooey? I don't really think so, to be honest... I think my main headcanon for Jess and James is that James secretly is attracted to Jessie, but more as a soulmate thing instead of a "ooh, hot girl, let's sleep together!" 'Cuz Jess does understand him more than others do, and most importantly she shares his sense of fashion. But he always sees how flirtatious and seductive Jessie can be, and tries to keep his distance from the physical aspects of their relationship.

And my headcanon for Jess is that she kinda likes James, too, but more in that "oh, no, he's hot" way than the soulmate deal. She isn't the most thoughtful and deep of persons. I like to mash her and James into awkward situations and make them slog through it without showing too much of themselves to the other. Those precious little brats.


End file.
